


ask and ye shall receive

by Cockbite (personalized_radio)



Series: NSFW/PWP [8]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Punishment, Spanking, look its less than 10k!, of smut you guys its just more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/Cockbite
Summary: that time brett put him over his knee for disrespecting him





	ask and ye shall receive

**Author's Note:**

> this is for theme week!! its for THREE DAYS of theme week bc im both lazy and the unluckist bitch
> 
> SO this is for: Thirsty Thursday, Fluff Friday (aftercare COUNTS), and Say Something Saturday
> 
> also for continuity's sake, this takes place somewhere before hurry up and wait! i dont like this one nearly as much but....what can u do!

He’s practically _vibrating_ by the time they get home. Brett hasn’t spoken since he nearly strangled James at the warehouse and Aleks has been rapping along to the radio to himself the whole ride but neither of them have even looked at him and he’s _vibrating out of his skin_ with the need for them to just _look at him_.

Brett parks the car in James’ driveway, turns the keys so the engine dies and James is expecting an order, something - _get out of the car_ or _we’re home_ or even just a noise - but Brett just shoves his door open and gets out. He slams it shut, hard enough to rock the car, and then stalks to the front door with his keys in hand to unlock it and James watches the whole time, mouth dry.

Aleks finishes his song before he throws his own door open and gets out, too. James follows his lead, fists clenched tight together with the urge to snap at one of them until they pay attention. He’s done enough, he’s got his way; they’re home, if pissed at him, and maybe they’ll give him some relief or maybe he can go into the back room himself and just fucking lay on the floor until he’s able to think straight again. There’s a mess back at the warehouse; client folders all over the floor that he’d knocked over, an extra few hours’ work that he’ll have to stay late to fix tomorrow or the next day - but _fuck_ , they’re home.

Maybe he walks too close to Aleks as they make their way to the front door, but Aleks reaches back without looking and snags his wrist the second time he bumps against him and it’s tight and a little painful and it makes James’ eyes flutter for a second before he gets control of himself. He wants more, but something makes him try to rip his wrist away - maybe it was to test the grip, but he should have known it was steady because Aleks just yanks him back, hard, and he nearly stumbles into the house.

Brett’s hanging up his jacket, but he still looks close to murder and it’s making a hot ball of _want_ start to pulse in James’ gut.

He opens his mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to just sigh, but Brett cuts him such a dark look that he immediately closes it again, teeth snapping together. 

“Dogs,” Brett says, and it’s icy, before he turns away from them and marches toward the kitchen.

“Oh, boy, you’ve fucked up,” Aleks says under his breath, letting go of James’ wrist to pull his own jacket off, “I wouldn’t put up a fight if I were you, dude,”

James unzips his hoodie, not sure what to say in response. His heart is racing, his skin a little sweaty, his body _reacting_ to the anger from Brett and the irritation from Aleks. He knows what’s coming and he _wants_ it, with every fiber of him, as much as he worries about how Brett is going to get back at him..

Aleks lets him pull his hoodie off, lets him hang it up, and then James is pressed against the door by a falsely gentle hand against his chest.

“James, babe.” Aleks says, faux caring, “You’re going to be good tonight, if you know what’s good for you. No fighting, no arguing, no whining, no trying to beg your way out of punishment. You’re going to go into the room, take your clothes off, fold them up, sit in your spot in your position, and you ain’t gonna make a _peep_ about whatever Brett wants to do to you.”

He doesn’t ask if James understands, because he knows James does, as much as James fucking hates him for it. He maybe pushed too far this time, maybe hadn’t thought everything out all the way, but they’d been _ignoring him_ , and he couldn’t have that. 

He nods anyway, closes his eyes when Aleks trails that deceptively gentle hand up his chest and to his throat. It’s instinctive, the way he tilts his head back, bares himself for Aleks’ palm to press against his windpipe, feels his breathing hitch at the way Aleks wraps his fingers delicately around his neck. 

Aleks doesn’t press down or cut off his airflow, but the threat is there and so is the promise that James would let him.

Aleks’ hand keeps going eventually, nails tracing through his beard, up the side of his face, into his hair. Aleks buries his fingers in the locks, combs roughly until he can yank the tie out and James hisses, bites back a pained _mhph_ and doesn’t fight back. 

“Go.” Aleks says when he’s casually rolling James’ hair tie onto his wrist, and James goes.

He can hear Brett in the kitchen but he doesn’t stop to look. Goes straight down the hallway and to the familiar door. He opens it, and the purples and shadows of the room instantly make him shiver. It’s not enough to make him cloudy, but...it’s enough to make him _something_.

Instead of thinking about it, he just walks in. Goes to the shelves in the corner and kicks off his shoes, toes off his socks. Usually, he’d just leave them but he knows what Aleks told him to do and he’s in enough trouble that he thinks pushing further would have the opposite effect to what he wants so he bends down to grab both socks and roll them neatly together. He puts his shoes on one of the empty shelves, side by side, and then rests the roll of socks in one before he pulls his t-shirt off and folds it up. Next is his pants, which he shimmies out of before folding them, too, and placing them on top of the t-shirt next to his shoes. Finally, he pulls his boxers off, folds them just as neatly and sets them on the pile. Next is his watch, his bracelet, the necklace he’d worn today.

He doesn’t leave the shelf until he’s bare and he’s double checked that it’s all folded and neat and wouldn’t get him in trouble, and he goes immediately to the carpet. Stands in the dark of the room for a few seconds and thinks about turning a light on. But Aleks hadn’t said anything about lighting, he’d just told James to strip and sit, so he drops to his knees with his hands behind his back, straights up and tilts his head back a little. Almost immediately, tension he hadn’t even known he was carrying falls away and he feels - lighter. He wanted this so badly, he _needed_ this so badly, and now...he has it. Soon, he’ll have _more_. Whatever they decide to give him.

He’s facing the couch, but he lets his eyes fall shut, lets himself just - feel how he’s kneeling, how the chill of the room brings goosebumps to his skin.

Someone comes in, quiet, and he knows it’s Aleks before he hears the approving hum. There’s a heavier, angrier, gait behind Aleks and it brings all the lost tension back. This time, though, it’s anticipatory rather than stress. He _wants_.

“He listens when _you_ tell him,” he hears Brett mutter, irritation still plain, and Aleks huffs out a steady laugh.

“He’s a piece of shit and he knows I know it. You’re _soft_ with him. Of course he doesn’t listen to you.”

“I won’t be soft tonight,” Brett says with promise and James hears him collapse on the couch. He hasn’t been ordered to keep his eyes closed, but he thinks it would be a mistake to open them now. Besides, this...he likes. Trying to keep track of them both without his sight.

“Sounds kinky,” Aleks doesn’t join Brett on the couch. Instead, james hears him pad away, toward the shelves, and James can only imagine that he’s going to check to see if James followed orders. He knows he did, he _double-checked_ , but there’s still a sudden weight in his chest that nearly drags him to the floor as he waits for Aleks to give his approval. He doesn’t do what he’s told without a fight first very often, and it feels like something that should be rewarded in and of itself that he _did_. His own way of apologizing for ruining things so spectacularly at the warehouse today. 

But he doesn’t get approval, or disapproval. Instead, he hears Aleks make a neutral _hm_ and return to the carpet. He still doesn’t join Brett on the couch. Both of those things irritate the _fuck_ out of him.

He sits on the chair across from the couch, and James nearly whips around to face him, barely stops himself in time. It sends him into high alert, all of his sense flaring to life in the absence of his sight. He knows, logically, that he could just open his eyes and be freed of the uncertainty but he’s just as sure that he will never open his eyes again without permission.

Neither of them have addressed him yet, and he doesn’t like that, not at all, but he knows better than to try to get them to react to him. He’s sure he’s in for it, but any more annoyance may just garner Brett punishing him with his apathey rather than his attention. He knows how to toe that line - with Aleks, it’s so much harder because Aleks can read his intentions before _James_ even knows what he wants. Brett...Brett requires a more precise manipulation. 

Though even James can tell that he had...gone a little overboard today. If he’s good, he’s sure Brett will forgive him a lot faster than Aleks would have.

There’s silence for a while after Aleks sits. Maybe they’re talking with their eyes, or texting or checking emails. Maybe they’re just looking at James, trying to make him squirm. Maybe - maybe - maybe they aren’t paying any attention to anything at all. It’s been a long day, maybe they both fell asleep.

He doesn’t move. His legs want him to shift, to get the blood flowing again, but he feels like he’s undergoing a _test_ right now. A test that he doesn’t want to lose. So he stays still, kneeling just like he’s supposed to, in his spot in the center of the carpet in the center of the room. He’s being _good_. He understands that he’s in trouble, but he also thinks that they should _appreciate_ that he is being _good_ without a fight.

Finally, finally, when James is just about to readjust his body _or_ throw a fit, he hears Brett lean forward and plant his feet.

“Twenty strikes.”

“Just twenty?” Aleks says, sounding a little amused, “Brett, _your_ bitch cost us four hours of extra paperwork. I had to cancel dinner reservations that we’ve had for a _week_.”

“Five for each hour we had to fucking sit there and clean up his mess. Ten with my hand, five with the paddle, five with the cane.”

James, blood running cold, goes so totally still that it feels like even his heart has stopped beating.

Aleks, the cold-blooded _bastard_ , laughs. “You think he can take five lashes?”

“He _will_ take five lashes. He’ll take as many as I _goddamn_ give him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Aleks says, sounding pleased as fucking punch, “I like this new, decisive Brett. You have any in mind?”

“Your choice.” Brett says and James hears him crack his knuckles. It’s a sharp sound, and he’s suddenly keyed up enough that it makes him jump and he hears Aleks laugh again, low and smug. 

Neither of them have addressed _him_ yet but he’s itching for one of them to so he can plead his case. Ten strikes from Brett’s hand would _hurt_ , and the paddle would hurt even more, but he can handle both. He can handle both _easily_ compared to -

Mistakes. Mistakes have been made tonight but he can - he can make it up to Brett. He can fix this. He can change Brett’s mind. If he’d known that the _cane_ was on the table, he _never_ would have listened to Aleks, Jesus Christ. He would have locked the damn door himself.

He doesn’t remember hearing Aleks get up, maybe he’d been too lost in his panic, but he hears a _snap_ of two fingers and knows it’s Brett catching his attention.

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word, James. Come here.” 

James...doesn’t not want to do that. That’s actually, if he were to be asked, the _last thing_ he wants to do. 

“ _Now_ , James,” Brett says, “I’m not gonna ask nicely again.”

James presses his lips together, tries to think about this. If he goes over, Brett’s going to cane him eventually. If he doesn’t go over, Brett might come _after_ him and it might be worse. If he goes over and begs, he might be able to get away with just his hand, maybe the paddle. If he doesn’t go and begs, Aleks might get angrier than Brett is. He’s kind of at an impasse and he isn’t sure which of his choices is the _best_ to avoid getting his ass ruined in the _not_ fun way.

He can _feel_ Brett’s impatience and it’s the silence from Aleks that eventually gets his ass in gear. He can work with this, he can figure this out, if it’s Brett he’s trying to convince. Aleks is obviously giving Brett the lead and James doesn’t want to risk Aleks taking that back. There’d be no getting out of it, short safewording, if Aleks decides to cane him

He shuffles closer to the couch, shoulders in, head ducked, trying to look ashamed, and he holds his breath the closer he gets to Brett, until he can feel himself being bracketed between Brett’s legs. It isn’t until he can feel Brett _looming_ that he’s finally allowed to stop. He feels Brett cup his jaw and his hands are gentle, even if he’s angry, as they hold his face. Brett draws his thumbs along his cheeks, under his eyes, with a tender touch that makes James feel calmer. The rest of his fingers rub soothing circles along the back of James’ neck, slow and steady enough that James has to start breathing regularly again just so he can really appreciate how gentle the touch is.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Brett says, quiet, and James squeezes his eyes shut a second longer before carefully opening them.

He’s met with Brett’s face, a half-amused smile on his lips.

“You look like I’m taking you to the noose.”

James, licking his lips, keeps quiet but maybe his eyes give it away because Brett leans forward to kiss the tip of his nose, both cheeks. 

“You’ll be okay. You’ve survived worse.”

James opens his mouth, ready to start pleading, but Brett immediately covers his lips with his thumbs. It isn’t enough to stop James from speaking, just the tips of his thumbs over his top lip and resting down his face, a reminder not to speak, but James slowly closes his mouth again. Swallows. He hopes his eyes are pleading enough to convince Brett without words. 

“You know you deserve this.” Brett says, sounding sincere, “This isn’t an _unjustified punishment_. I’m not doing this because I _like_ to hurt you. We both know that’s Aleks’ gig. You’re looking at me like I’m gonna kill you, but you _started_ this. This is exactly what you wanted. Isn’t it?”

James starts to shake his head _no_ , but Brett has a tight grip on his jaw and he’s got enough muscles to crush James’ skull between his head so there isn’t much James can do when Brett uses his grip to make him nod.

“I know you think you’re gonna get out of this. You think you’re gonna blink those Bambi eyes at me and I’m gonna give in and let you off easy because I’m not like Aleks. Am I wrong, James?” 

James, against his will, shakes his head.

“I know I’m not wrong. Ask me for this.” Brett uses his thumbs to gently pry James’ mouth open, force him to stop biting his lip, “Ask me.”

“I -” James says, throat tight, heart slow and fast all at once, “Brett, please -”

“Ah - Ah - Ah,” Brett stops him, frowning, “I don’t want to hear you crying wolf. I want to hear that this is what you wanted when you shredded a whole file to get back at me. Ask me.”

“Please,” James says, voice faulty, “B-Brett, I -” he stops, Brett’s clear gaze growing disapproving until he gives in, “This is - this is what I - I wanted.”

“I know,” Brett says gently and kisses his cheeks again, “I know it is, sweetheart. I’m not a mindreader and you didn’t ask me to give you attention, did you?” James is forced to shake his head again, “No, you did something spiteful to manipulate me. So you must have wanted to be punished. Ask me.”

James, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, manages, “Punish me, please.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Brett smiles, kisses his forehead, his nose, “That’s what you asked for, so that’s what you’ll get.” 

“Brett,” He starts, hoping an apology would be enough, that his fear would appease Brett enough that he would let him off with a warning, but Brett hushes him, forces his mouth closed with another click of his teeth together.

“Enough. Be quiet now. You can yell, shout, whatever you want, but you’d better count. If you don’t, I will, and you know I’m no good at math, sweetheart.”

“Yes, sir,” James mumbles, trying to keep his shit together. Things aren’t looking great for him; he’s naked and vulnerable, his mind racing, his heart beating too fast to understand. He’s _regretting_ a lot of things.

Brett’s really mad. 

It’s that thought, more even than the cane, that makes him curl in on himself even more, shame filling his belly. The shame is what makes him go quietly when Brett lets go of his face and tugs him up and onto the couch. It sucks the anger from his veins, leaves nothing but _cold_ behind.

“Face in the cushions, ass up.” Brett orders and bends James over so that he’s got his knees under him, his chest against Brett’s lap, his face leaning against the seat, “Remember to count. Hands by your head.”

Slow, reluctant, James slides his hands to his head, grips the material of the cushions in his fingers tightly and tries to keep still. He can...he can still get out of this, if he’s smart. Ten strikes would be plenty for Brett to give him before guilt started to eat him up.

“I’ll just settle down right here and watch,” Aleks says, and James sees him collapse back into the chair, legs over one of the arms, and prop his head up with his hand and elbow on the other arm. He looks _predatory_ , even just with the way he’s watching them. “Don’t look away from me, James. I wanna see your face.”

Brett keeps a hand between his shoulders, firm but not holding him down, and he trails his other hand along the back of James’ thigh, fingers light and warm. He takes a few seconds, caresses his thigh, moves up to press his hand flat against James’ ass, rub circles against it while James tries to keep his breathing steady. Aleks doesn’t give anything away, just keeps that same half-smile on his face while Brett gets comfortable with their positions and James tries to stay calm. 

He feels Brett pull his hand away, knows what’s coming and tenses up in preparation for a hit that...doesn’t come. It doesn’t come for a long time, eternities of James waiting, not until he finally begins to relax. Brett must feel the way his back goes loose because it’s only then that he brings his hand down against James’ left cheek, more force than sound. It’s a dull _slap_ but the force of it rocks James forward and he bites into his lip to avoid yelling, toes curling a little against the pain.

“One,” He says, when he’s sure he won’t gasp.

“I think you should say thank you to him,” Aleks chimes in, smug, “Brett’s being real nice to you, babe.”

“Thank you,” James grits, clenching his fists.

“Thank you…?” Brett repeats back, not appeased, and James turns his face into the couch for just a second before returning his eyes to Aleks’ smirking face.

“Thank you, sir.”

The second hit lands as soon as the words are out of his mouth and he doesn’t have time to bite back the cry of pain this time. Brett’s not hitting for sound, he’s hitting to hurt, and both of James’ ass cheeks are stinging under Brett’s palm, his legs shifting a little under the uncomfortable pain.

“T-two. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just not enough, I think.” Aleks frowns, looking unhappy, “What’s missing, Brett?”

“You aren’t asking politely, sweetheart.” Brett decides, “How am I supposed to give you what you want if you don’t ask for it?”

“Brett,” James whines, wiggling more to get the anxious energy out than anything else, “ _Please_.”

“Ask for it.” Brett says sternly and James feels his cheeks burn as he looks between Aleks’ gleeful face and Brett’s knees, which is all he can see of his other boyfriend.

“Please.”

“Please _what_?”

“Please hit me again.” 

The third strike is enough to move him forward and he’s still gasping at the pain when Brett drags him back into place, “ _Three_! Thank you, sir, please...please hit me again.”

“If you insist,” Brett says gently, and whallops his right cheek just as hard as the last three. 

“Four,” he says, trying to remember if that’s the right number. His head is a little slow. “Four...thank you, sir.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Brett rubs his ass, “Come on, James. We’re not even a quarter of the way through, don’t drift on me now. What else?”

“Please,” James blinks, eyes fixed on Aleks, “Hit me again.”

Brett rubs his thigh again and then wacks him hard enough that he flops onto his belly, feet twisting together as he fights back the urge to try to buck off of Brett’s lap. “Five! Thank you, sir!” 

“If you forget to ask me again, I’ll add another five strikes,” Brett warns and James watches Aleks’ smirk grow wider as Brett yanks him back onto his knees with a firm grip on his hip.

“I’m _sorry_ , please hit me again,” James says immediately and Brett, without hesitation, does.

“Six, thank you, sir,” James yelps, rocking forward an an attempt to get away from Brett’s hand, “Please hit me again,”

“See, the thing is,” Brett sighs, rubbing James’ ass again until the hot skin is prickling painfully, like a sunburn, “I don’t think you’re sorry. I think you think you can still get out of this. I think you think you’re gonna somehow weasel your way into being forgiven without punishment.”

“No,” James lies, shaking his head, “No, that’s not -”

Brett slaps him again and it shuts him up quick, a low moan of pain escaping before he can stop it. Aleks is still watching, quiet, and the smirk is gone but James almost wishes it wasn’t just so he can focus on that instead of how intensely Aleks is looking at his face.

“S-Seven...Th-thank you, sir. Please hit me again.” he says, and it’s a little angrier than he means for it to be but that just makes Brett huff with laughter.

“Are you pissed, sweetheart? Are you mad I’ve got you over my knee like some brat? Are you mad that I’m spankin’ you? It’s what you’re askin’ me to do.”

“ _No_ ,” James lies again, clipped, “I’m not _mad_.”

“You’re a liar.” Brett says and then smacks his ass hard enough that James howls. He catches him in a tender spot, the crease where his thigh and ass meet, and James is trying to bolt up and jolt away before he’s even aware that he’s moving. He shoves his hands back, trying to protect his ass but Brett’s hold between his shoulders turns hard and he’s shoved back down with enough force to make him _oomph_ into the material. Brett grabs his wrists and shoves them back down by his head before he re-applies his grip between his shoulders and James…goes limp, knows he can’t escape. The hit brings stinging tears to his eyes without his consent and he tries to wipe his face into the couch even as Aleks soaks it all in. 

“Eight,” he manages, voice fragile, “It _hurts_ , Brett,”

“I know,” Brett says gently, “That’s five more with the paddle.”

“ _No_ ,” James shakes his head as best he can, “No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, thank you! Thank you, sir! Please hit me again!”

“It’s a little late,” Aleks teases, and James glares at him as hatefully as he can until Brett’s next smack drives the resentment toward Aleks out of his mind to replace it with resentment toward Brett. 

“N-Nine, thank you, sir,” He swallows, desperate for the break he thinks might come after he’s done with the first ten, “Please hit me again.”

Brett doesn’t talk to him, just brings his hand down again on James’ right cheek, catches that same tender spot that drives James onto his toes with a wild cry before he collapses onto Brett’s lap again, rolling a little so Brett can’t reach his ass easily, anymore. 

“ _Ten_ , _ten_ , thank you, sir, _please_ hit me again,” he gasps, and he realizes he’s shaking when Brett grabs his waist before he rolls right off the couch.

He’s panting, chest heaving, and part of him is confused and doesn’t understand why he’s so out of breath. The rest of him is just trying to calm down enough to inhale before he passes out. 

“Hey,” Brett rubs his arm, pats his hip, “You’re okay. Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

James tries, curls his legs up a little to protect his ass. He feels - a lot. Ripped open, hurt, _shame_ because he made Brett _mad_ , he stopped looking at Aleks, he can’t - he can’t do anything right, he can’t -

“ _Hey_ ,” Brett snaps, louder, and James freezes. Brett leaves his arm, cups the back of his neck and cradles his head in one hand, “Look at me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I just, I mean, I don’t -” he stutters, reaching back to carefully hover his palm over his ass. He feels heat radiating, knows that his ass is probably bright fuckin’ red. He can feel the heat from Brett’s palm on his thigh, too, like it’s burning a mark into his skin. 

“It hurts?” Brett offers, and James nods meekly. 

“You have fifteen more to get through.” Brett continues, rubbing his thumb into the junction between James’ ear and jaw, “What’s your word?”

“Red,” James says after a second.

“What’s your color now?”

“...green.”

“Not yellow?”

James takes a second to think about that. He could call yellow. Maybe Brett would be nicer to him. Aleks might come over, too, and sit with them. He could have the attention he wanted, without the rest of the strikes, maybe. 

“...Green.” He says, a little more firm, and Brett smiles. It’s enough to help James calm down a little. Brett isn’t _mad_ mad. If he were _mad_ mad, then they wouldn’t be here. They don’t use this room when they’re _really_ angry and Aleks wouldn’t be letting Brett have so much control if he was mad, either. 

“Ten with the paddle,” Brett says, “Five with the cane. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

 _No_ , James wants to say, but he just nods. He wants to prove to himself, and them, that he can do it as much as he really does _not_ want to do it.

“If you can take all ten in a row, I think Aleks might be swayed to come sit with you for the cane. Would you like that? Seem like a good compromise?”

“I...I don’t want the cane,” James admits, mostly to himself. It’s only been used three times before in his entire career at Aleks’, and then Brett’s, feet, and only for his _worst_ offenses. He’ll admit that shredding the file and throwing some stuff around hadn’t been a _kind act_ by any means but...he’d argue his case that it wasn’t _cane-worthy_ , either.

“Yeah?” Brett hums, pulls him closer until he’s sitting in Brett’s lap, head against his shoulder as they talk. It’s...it’s not normally how scenes get negotiated, usually Aleks makes his decision and then drags James through fire until his decision is executed, and James _loves_ that - but this...this is nice, too. “You _don’t_ want the cane?”

“No,” James swallows, “I don’t want it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Brett says, and it’s not a _okay, baby, no cane_ , but it’s _something_. “Let’s see how you do on the paddle. Then we’ll talk. Sound okay, Aleks?”

“If it were up to me, I’d have beaten his ass with the cane for all twenty strikes,” Aleks says, which is why James hadn’t shredded one of _his_ files, “But...yeah, okay. I can dig a shake up. _If_ you can take all ten without bitching out.”

“I _can_ ,” James grumbles, glaring at Aleks from the safety of Brett’s lap, “I can do it.”

“I know,” Brett kisses his temple, “I know you can. Get back in position, now.”

James almost argues, almost pushes for a little more time to let his ass rest, but he also knows that if he waits too long it will only hurt more. So he slowly climbs out of Brett’s lap, gets his knees back under him and carefully bends down. He rests his head on his folded arms, locks his eyes firmly on Aleks.

“That’s right, babe,” Aleks grins, dangerous, “Look at me. I wanna see your face when Brett beats your ass black and blue.”

“Good pick, Aleks,” Brett says before James can reply, sounding pleased. He feels Brett shift, hears the brush of wood against the couch. Brett touches the paddle to the pads of James’ feet and, for a brief hysterical moment, James things Brett is gonna paddle his feet. That was, by far, the worst thing he’d _ever_ accomplished and he...might be more willing to take the caning. But Brett leaves his feet alone, trails the paddle along his calf, up his thigh, presses it flat to James’ ass. It’s _cold_ , at first, and it feels nice against the burning heat of his skin, but it quickly warms to match. The longer Brett holds it in place, the more James’ anxiety begins to tick up again. 

He just repeats to himself that it’s only ten strikes. That it’ll be over in thirty seconds or less, that Brett will be fair in the strength he uses, that James just has to get through it and then he can have Aleks and he might get out of the caning.

“Brace yourself,” Brett warns, tangles his fingers in James’ hair to keep his head down. James feels the paddle leave his skin, can imagine Brett pulling his hand back. He can feel Brett tensing up and he almost squeezes his eyes shut, but Aleks has him caught in a stare he can’t escape. Doesn’t want to escape.

“Tell me why I’m doing this, James.” Brett says, quiet, and James’ breathing hitches.

“Because I wanted you to.”

“What is it you’re asking?”

“Please hit me again,” James says, and means it.

The first strike is sudden, hard enough that James immediately loses the support of his knees. He goes down, barely biting back the flare of _pain_ that the paddle brings out before the second strike hits. The next three find him just as fast - quick enough that the sting builds on itself but not so quick that he doesn’t have time to feel each one make contact. The wood is loud when it hits him, thuds that bring a shamed flush to his face. It _hurts_ , almost overwhelmingly so, and he can’t help the burning in his eyes, the sob that he tries to muffle into his arm. 

He sees Aleks trail a hand between his legs, sees him swallow, watches the way his eyes go a little soft as he watches James. There’s almost a proud smile on his lips and it makes James’ chest warm even as he tries desperately not to twist away from Brett’s hold. 

“Hold still,” Brett says, but it’s so far away. James feels Brett’s hand tighten in his hair, press his face down harder, and then the paddle comes down again on that tender spot from before. He maybe screams, tries to roll away, but Brett has a good aim and gets the same spot again almost immediately. The sharp increase in pain is enough that James just - tips, between one second and the next. It’s like he goes from feeling okay, feeling like he’ll survive this, to so far under that he isn’t even sure if he can say his name.

He feels his body go limp as he relaxes, gives into the pain and Brett’s touch. The paddle comes down again, but it feels - different, now. Still painful, but it’s not why he’s crying into his arms, anymore.

The last three strikes are in those same tender spots to both legs and they shake him to his core. He feels his feet twisting together against the pain, feels a cold sweat dripping down his back, his thighs. His entire body is trembling, adrenaline and endorphins flowing, vision a little blurry as he blinks at Aleks. 

He might have screamed again, or maybe not. He can’t be entirely sure. He just knows that he’s hot, that his body yearns for something. He doesn’t know what it is, but he _wants_. 

“Look at you,” he hears Brett say, and he feels himself being rolled. It _hurts_ when his ass brushes against Brett’s leg and he arches, makes a pained, small noise that doesn’t stop Brett but garners a soothing _shh_ from him as he gathers James up again.

“Done?” James mumbles, going easy when Brett rubs his back and settles a hand on his upper thigh. He feels Brett’s fingers crawl across his lap, lightly dance along his hard-on until James’ hips twitch without permission. 

“No,” Brett says, sounding a little disappointed, “Almost. But Aleks is gonna sit with us now. Right, Aleks?”

“Yep,” Aleks says, and sits where James had previously been sobbing into his arms. “You did good, babe. I’ll admit it, I didn’t think you were gonna do it.”

He lounges, throws his arm along the back of the couch and the arm. 

James rubs his face on Brett’s shoulder, maybe to get rid of the tears, maybe just as an excuse to get closer. “I did.”

“Yeah,” Brett says, lays his palm along James’ erection lightly, “You did. You still with us?”

“Mhm,” James nods, still shivering with the effort it takes to not try to rub against Brett’s palm, “‘m here.”

“Good,” Aleks walks two fingers down James’ spine, slides his hand back up and kneads at his shoulders and his voice is casual but his touch is near worship. James remembers watching him touch himself through his pants, wants to touch him instead.

“Let’s talk about the cane,” Brett says, and that’s enough to drag James’ attention back to what’s happening. 

“You _said_ ,” he says, because Brett had _said_ \- but Brett laughs, low and amused, closes his fingers around James’ dick and holds it in his palm. It’s all James can do to not rock into the touch. 

“I _said_ I’d think about it. And I have. I’ll give you a few options.” 

“Sounds hard,” Aleks teases, and James would snap something back but everything is so gentle now. He likes sitting in Brett’s lap with Aleks a warm presence behind him, likes having their hands and attention on him. He doesn’t want to fight, or learn lessons. He just wants to stay like this, forever. His eyes grow heavier and heavier, his head going quiet. He settles a hand on the one Brett has around his dick, squeezes a little bit.

“What do you want?” Brett asks, lips dragging against James’ forehead. 

“I want you to touch me more,” James says, sighing in pleasure when Brett immediately tightens his hand and strokes.

He keeps the stroking going, slow but not teasing, as he talks. “Here are our options. A, you get five strikes and I let you get yourself off. B, you get _three_ strokes and _we_ get you off. C, no strikes, we go to bed, but Aleks and I are gonna fool around while you lay next to us and wish you could join.”

“...what’s the catch with B?” James asks, whines low when Brett lets go of his erection. Brett falls back to James’ thighs, pushes his legs apart until he can tease his hand between them and tap at the skin of his inner thigh with the tips of his fingers.

“You spread those legs for me.”

James and Aleks hiss at the same time, James just _imagining_ and Aleks in sympathy.

“ _Brett_ ,” James says, betrayed, closing his legs tight on instinct. Brett’s still between them, though, and he hooks his his fingers up, rubs at the spot behind James’ balls until James jerks his legs apart with a gasp.

“Gimme an answer before we go with option D.”

“What’s option D?” Aleks leans forward until he can hook his chin over James’ shoulder, presses against his back and drops an arm along his waist to support himself.

“You get five strikes and then you go to bed while Aleks and I get each other off.”

“Truly the best of all the options for James, huh?”

“It’s not my suggestion, but to each his own,” Brett shrugs and James gaps at them, devastated.

He didn’t know what to do. Option C was the absolute _worst_ option, so his only _real_ choices were A and B. A lot of pain and his own hand or a _lot_ of pain with a much better reward.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of five,” Brett says and James, turns so mash his face into Aleks’ neck.

“Five,” Aleks says, rubbing circles into his belly.

“B,” James says, like it’s being pulled out of him. 

“Ask for it, James,” Brett keeps his fingers working behind James’ balls, stimulating that spot that has his toes curling for an entirely different reason than before. It hurts to tense, his ass begging for a _break_ , but he can’t help it. 

“I _want_ ,” he says, clinging between the two of them for the strength to say it, “I want you to cane me twice and then get me off.”

“Twice?” Brett laughs, and so does Aleks, the both of them giggling into the skin of James’ temple and shoulder, Brett’s beard tickling and Aleks’ lips warm, “You’ve got so many goddamn balls, you bitch. Fine. Twice it is.”

“I didn’t think I’d get away with that,” James admits, inhales sharply at a particularly intense jolt brought on by Brett’s fingers. 

“Don’t push it,” Brett warns, and then hooks his arm under both of James’ legs and lifts him up like it’s nothing. James doesn’t even have a chance to yell before Brett slips out from under him and stands up straight, stretches out. James’ eyes are drawn to the thin line of flesh revealed between his jeans and his shirt.

“Aleks?” Brett glances over his shoulder, “You good to hold him?”

“Absolutely,” Aleks agrees and James tries to get into a better position, only to find that he can’t move his limbs very easily.

“Hey, hey,” Aleks cards a hand down his chest, stops him before he can really start to struggle, “Relax. You’ve done your part. It’s time to let go, isn’t it, babe? Time to just lay back and trust us?”

“Yeah?” James offers, leaning back until he’s resting most of his weight against Aleks, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Aleks catches his chin, tilts his face up so Aleks can press a light kiss to the corner of his lips, “Relax. Come on, I’ve got you. Lean back, huh?”

It’s a slow process, one that Bret helps in. Aleks turns sideways on the couch, rests his back against the arm and they lay James out in front of him, rest his head on Aleks’ lap, hook one leg over the back of the couch. Aleks holds his other leg open, spreads him wide for Brett to loom over. 

Aleks had leaned the cane against the side of the couch and Brett takes just long enough to look them over with dark eyes before he picks the cane up, holds it on either end with both hands. It’s long, thin wood, dark and bendy. It _hurts_ , and James craves it and fears it all at once. He craves and fears the man _holding_ that wood, too. 

Aleks smoothes the hair out of his face, looks down at him with a pleased smile.

“Look at me,” he says, soft, intense, “I wanna see you.”

“Okay,” James agrees, small, lays his arms back to wrap around Aleks’ waist. Opens himself up to them both, like he’s wanted to do for days and days. 

He lowers his eyelids, leaves just cracks of his vision through his lashes to make Aleks out with. He feels Brett trace the cane along his body. Starting at his ankle, down his calves again, the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, the _intimate_ skin of the space below his balls. He feels the very tip tease at his hole, press _just_ inside before Brett pulls it away to continue running it across his body. Back down his other thigh, his calf, ending at the opposite ankle. 

Finally, he presses the length of it mid-way up James’ inner thigh again and leaves it. 

“Here,” Brett says in warning, and James looks at Aleks, tries to use the proud look in his eyes to steel himself. He hears the whip of the cane coming down and then the _shwap_ of it against his skin before he feels it. 

And then he feels it.

It’s like - fire? A thin line of fire, a sharp slice of _pain_ that has James flinching so hard he nearly rolls off the couch again. He pulls his legs in, but Aleks doesn’t let go of under his knee and it nearly twists him off the couch with how violently he reacts. He maybe cries out, he just doesn’t know. It feels like he’s buried under layers and layers of silk, like the only clear feelings are those of Aleks’ eyes on him and the line of pain so close to his most intimate parts that he almost feels it _in_ his dick.

“How was that?” Aleks asks, teasing, and he shakes his head even as he lets Brett roll him back onto his back, lets him pull his legs apart again. 

“ _Hurts_ , sir,” James whines, but the pain is already fading into that cotton cocoon wrapped around him. Aleks smooths his hair back again, gentles both hands down his chest to rub lovingly at his hips, press into the soft rolls of his belly, stroke the tops of his thighs, frame his dick and rub the head with his thumbs until James moans weakly in thanks. He’s still shaking, trembling, and it only gets worse when he feels Brett lay the cane on the flesh of his thigh opposite to the previous hit.

“Here.” Brett says, just as soft as before, and James flinches before he even pulls the cane back, legs trying to close even as Aleks smacks his side. 

“Hold still,” Brett orders, “Open your legs, James. Don’t make this hard.”

“Sorry,” James says, because he _is_ , “Sorry, ‘m _trying_ ,”

“We know,” Aleks soothes, “It’s hard. But you just have to do it one more time. You’re so close.”

“Just one more time,” Brett promises, and his voice is sweet enough that James manages to overcome the instinctive urge to protect himself.

He hears the whistle of the cane through the air again, hears the _shwap_ of the wood against his thigh, feels the blazing _pain_ \- 

Aleks lets him close his legs, lets him turn onto his side and bury his face in Aleks’ thigh. He can feel how hard Aleks is but Aleks doesn’t do anything with that, just pets his hair, his arm his side, hushes him as James wipes the burning tears on his jeans. 

He hears Brett drop to the floor, feels his hands on him, familiar and comforting, lets himself be gentled into uncurling. He feels fuzzy, wants to be touched and held and kissed, wants to see them both.

Brett’s smiling, so pleased with him that he’s almost glowing, and James basks under their attention, their pride in him.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” James says, because he doesn’t. He can’t think. Hopes they don’t expect him to think.

“That’s okay, babe,” Aleks pats his cheek, “You’re perfectly okay. You did so good. Right, Brett?”

“Right,” Brett agrees, “I think I promised you something, didn’t I? You held up your side, I’ll hold up mine.”

James hums with pleasure with Brett wraps a hand around his hard-on, moans when he feels warm lips, hot breath, a searing tongue press to the flushed skin of his dick. Brett jerks him off, takes the head of him into his mouth, lowers his head until he’s taken most of James in. It’s a good blow job, slow and gentle, more licking that sucking. Brett bobs his head, mouth warm and enticing, hand working to pump James to completion.

It doesn’t take long. James is overwhelmed, oversensitive, close to passing out. He’s exhausted, feels warm and safe and satisfied - because he’d _done it_. Taken what Brett had asked him to, made them both happy again. He’s already _good_ , but Brett’s welcoming tongue and attentive touch rolls him over that edge within five minutes. He comes with a low cry, clings to Aleks’ leg, hugs Brett’s shoulders with his legs, rolls his hips into Brett’s mouth until he’s too wringed out to do anything but collapse back onto the couch. 

From there, his brain just...doesn’t work well. He does know that they both jerk off, sitting on the couch facing each other with him in the middle, leaning against Aleks’ back, sitting in Brett’s lap with his legs to either side of him. He watches Brett touch himself, feels the wet head of Aleks’ cock and his fist working himself over against his back. Aleks kisses along his neck and shoulders, moans and sighs into his neck, and Brett uses the hand he isn’t touching himself with to touch James, run a hand down his chest, pinch his nipples, fondle his sore ass until James whines. Aleks comes against his lower back, uses his fingers to work his come into James’ skin like he’s _marking_ him, and it’s Aleks whispering how good James was, how much he loves him, how good he was, how perfect he was for Brett, that seems to send Bret over. When he comes, he shoots against his own stomach and James’ both.

From there, things go fuzzy again. He knows Brett pulls him close, kisses him deep and encompassing while Aleks disappears from his back and doesn’t stop even when Aleks returns with a rag. They switch when Aleks is done wiping down himself and James’ back, and his chin is caught so Aleks can tilt his head to kiss him himself while Brett cleans himself and James’ front next. 

They help him stand, carefully and with plenty of support, and Brett guides him toward the bedroom while Aleks stays behind to clean up after their scene. Brett pulls the sheets down on their bed, helps him climb in but doesn’t join him until he’s retrieved some sort of cream from the bathroom.

“For your ass,” He shrugs, when James blinks slowly at him. James doesn’t respond, mostly just pleased that Brett is back and seems ready to touch him a whole lot more. He’s right, and Brett spends the next five minutes carefully working the cream into the skin of James’ ass and then his thighs. 

He’s wiping his hands on the rag when Aleks joins them and the two of them, together, climb into the bed with James and yank the comforter up to their chins.

James isn’t lonely for long. Brett curls up along his back and Aleks against his front almost immediately, warm hands and strong arms and comforting kisses to his cheeks that have him as close to purring as a human can get before too much time as passed.

“Think he internalized literally anything about tonight?” Aleks asks, and his words don’t mean much to James but his voice is calm and fond and it makes James’ chest warm to listen to.

“Maybe,” Brett says, a strong palm stroking rhythmically along James’ side. It’s rocking James to sleep, but he almost doesn’t want to drift away fully, just because he wants to keep listening to them talk. “If not, we can just do it again. I won’t be nice.”

“You tried, babe,” Aleks chuckles, “You were _almost_ convincing.”

“Shut up,” Brett grumbles and nuzzles into James’ shoulder so he doesn’t have to talk anymore.

Aleks grins, bright even in the dark of the room, lays his head close to James’ on the shared pillow. James finally falls asleep, Brett’s hand warm on his thigh, Aleks close enough that he could feel him breathe.

Maybe asking for what he wants instead might be a faster, less painful path to this spot next time, but James has never taken the easy route before.


End file.
